


Conversations In Bed

by afteriwake



Series: Just A Little Bit [8]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:18:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night after they are intimate they don't go to sleep quite yet and have a very interesting conversation about stereotypes of gingers, where they would be if they had not gotten together, and the man who initiated Sherlock's curiosity about Amy in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversations In Bed

**Author's Note:**

> One more answer to a **imagineyourotp** prompt ("Imagine Person A of your OTP playing connect the dots with Person B's freckles"). My friend Luis told me about the "gingers have no souls" theory, though he does admit Amy Pond is an exception to the rule.

She rather enjoyed staying over at 221B Baker Street. Not just when she was awake, when she could spend time with Sherlock and John and Mrs. Hudson. Those times were good, because then she felt accepted into this makeshift family they had formed with each other. They were all incredibly close, and she no longer felt like she was missing her family all the time. Yes, she didn't know where the Doctor was, and she didn't hear from River often, but she had found a new family to fill the voids left by them not being there and it helped a lot. No, she also enjoyed her nights there. There wasn't always sex when she stayed over; some days one or the both of them was too tired from a long day, and that was okay. She liked curling up next to Sherlock as she slept. She felt safe there, as though she knew he wouldn't hurt her. She also felt secure there, and maybe even loved. He had never said he loved her, and she wasn't sure if he did, but she could swear that she felt it. She wasn't quite sure exactly how she felt about him, but she cared for him greatly, she knew that much.

Tonight they were relaxing after a very good shag, and she was laying down on his bed, with her chest pressed against the mattress. At first he had been on his back, but then he had turned on his side and propped himself up on an elbow. “Are you at all tired?” she asked, trying not to yawn.

“Not really,” he said, beginning to trace a pattern on her back. “I usually find myself with more energy after we are together.”

“And it's not even like you do all the work all the time,” she said with an amused smile, turning her head to face him. “Are you going to leave me here in bed to go work on the case more?”

“Not until you're asleep,” he said. “Then you won't miss me as much.”

“I can still tell when I'm sleeping on my own. My body misses the closeness. But I guess as long as I wake up next to you it's all right. So no pulling an all-nighter tonight, all right?”

“Very well,” he replied.

She was quiet for a few moments as he continued to idly draw shapes on her back. “What are you doing right now?” she asked when she spoke again.

“I'm drawing patterns using the freckles on your back as a guide,” he replied.

“I didn't even know I had that many,” she said with a frown.

“You have quite a few,” he replied. “It probably comes from being ginger.”

“Lovely stereotype,” she said in a fake hurt tone.

“But scientifically proven,” he pointed out. “The stereotype of a quick temper is not quite as true, I have found. Nor is the stereotype that you have no soul.”

She lifted her head up. “People actually think gingers have no souls?” she asked as she looked at him.

He nodded. “Yes. I find it to be very untrue.”

“What about the quick temper?” she asked.

“I think you have that, but it's more stereotypical of your Scottish background than it is your red hair.”

She shook her head slightly and set it back down on her crossed arms. “You're lucky I like you. I might have booted you out of bed for that one.”

“It is my bed,” he pointed out. “And besides, I don't see you denying it.”

“That's because that particular aspect of my personality is true,” she said with an amused chuckle. “I do have quite the temper.”

“Not lately though,” he replied.

“You've been especially nice to me the last few weeks,” she said. “Very attentive. I almost wonder if you're trying to butter me up for something.”

“No. It's a new year, though. I've made a resolution to be the best partner I can be towards you.”

She rolled over to her side, shifting her arms so she could place her hands on his chest. “You're already quite good to me,” she said softly, giving him a wide smile.

“But I want to be better,” he said, reaching over and stroking her hair.

“You really don't need to,” she said. “If anything, I need to be better to you. I ignore you at times and I still snap a bit.”

“I take the snapping in stride,” he replied. “And I ignore you just as often as you ignore me. We do have lives independent of each other, after all.”

“Do you think about what your life would be like if I wasn't in it?” she asked.

“I think I would be quite lonely,” he said quietly. “I would still have John and Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade and Molly as well, but I would be missing something. There is something you have given me that they can't, a kind of happiness I did not think I could feel. A sense of completeness, I suppose.”

“I think I would have been miserable if I hadn't changed my feelings towards you,” she said. “We'd have tried to work together but it would have all fallen apart and I would have left. John would have lost a friend and we never would have had this.”

“That is something I regret, that I treated you so poorly when we first met,” he murmured. “You did not deserve any of it.”

“You've never told me what the Doctor said about me, when you met him as you were taking down the criminal network,” she said, moving closer. “What was it he said about me that had you so intrigued before you met me?”

“He said you were his best friend, that you were family to him,” he said, moving his hand to her waist and caressing it slightly. “He said you had an irrepressible spirit and you were like the brightest light on the horizon. You would light up any room you were in, and you had the nicest laugh. He also said you had endured some of the worst pains he had known and yet you were stronger for it, and you should be admired. He cares for you greatly, I think.”

“He did, back then,” she said sadly. “I don't know if he still does.”

“I think he does,” he said, moving his hand so he was rubbing her back. “I think your divorce hit him quite hard and he's still trying to cope with it. One day he might return. You can't give up hope of that.”

“I suppose you're right,” she said. “There's always hope he'll come back.” She moved forward more and kissed him softly. “Thank you,” she murmured when she pulled away.

“For what?” he asked.

“For being the man you are with me. I like him a lot.”

“I like him quite a bit too,” he said before kissing her again. As things got more passionate and he rolled her back over onto her back she realized that maybe they were both lucky that things had taken the turn they had seven months ago, when they had finally admitted their attraction to each other, and then again six months ago when they had gone on their first date. She didn't regret a single day since, and she wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
